Forged In Hell
by Thing With No Talent
Summary: G1. With his brother in serious trouble for almost killing someone, Sideswipe comes clean about the sequence of events that made up the Twins' lives before they joined the Autobots. Warnings for violence and a detailed look at a very rough life.
1. The Unauthorized Autobiography

Forward and Author's Notes

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS (below):

**This fic contains**: Strong language, violence, murder, systematic child abuse, gladiatorial combat, organized crime, debt slavery, one or two drug-abuse references, and plenty of references to the intimacy between Spark-brothers (that's "twincest" for thick-headed readers). If you don't think you can read about any of this and keep a cool head, I would suggest that you don't. I'm probably going to get flames as it is.

**This fic does NOT contain**: Graphic rape, perverted sexual fantasies, "squishy" smut, gallons of tears, suicidal thoughts, unfiltered angst, or ridiculous amounts of suffering shamelessly drawn out for dramatic effect. There's been enough of all of the above in Twins-centered fics already. If you're looking for it, I can recommend some authors that might be more to your tastes.

If you can stomach the first list and won't feel too deprived by lack of anything on the second list, please read on. I love feedback, even criticism. Feedback on characterization and realism is especially welcomed.

(This continuity is somewhat AU, though largely G1-based. It's a personal canon, so if you don't understand the foundries or Betas or the Syndicate or any of the other terms/concepts made up for the continuity, just ask. I'll probably post a glossary in one of these chapters. Long Author's Note is long enough already, and it's time to get to the fic.)

- - - - -

The Unauthorized Autobiography

Hey, Sideswipe here. I'm gonna tell you a little story. It's not a happy story, though I guess you might say it has a happy ending, so don't expect puppies and rainbows. I'm only telling it because my stubborn brother refuses to say a word in his own defense, and I don't know any other way to explain for him. Maybe this will give certain people some perspective, and I won't have to make so many excuses anymore. So, in a way I guess this is selfish. I'm tired of making excuses.

Currently, Sunstreaker is sedated under guard in the repair bay after almost completely slagging Ironhide. When I say slagging, I mean he had his hand around 'Hide's Spark-core and was _that_ close to ripping it out in one smooth motion, a move I've seen him pull off more times than I care to. I'm not sure if he stopped himself in time or just offlined before he could finish. (I hope for the former, but the latter is far more likely.) There are a dozen witnesses who say that Ironhide provoked the fight and escalated it, and the security cameras tell the same story, so no one's talking execution... but I've heard the word "exile" a couple times. And if we get thrown out of the Autobots, trust me, we've got nothing left, my brother and I.

I tried to tell Sunny this when they let me in to visit him, but I wasn't a bit surprised what he said when I told him they'd asked me if I would speak in his defense. "Don't say a damn thing, Sides," he slurred, with his optics cracked and face all mangled. "Ugly hunk of weld an' bolts got what he deserved... do the same thing again if I have to. Tell 'em to go scrap themselves." He was half-coherent anyway, but I know he doesn't like to talk about any of the things that happened before we met Prowl and ended up with the good guys. So he meant it. And I know he'll be pissed that I didn't listen.

But, Sunny... they should know. They can't judge us fairly unless they know. Besides, they _deserve_ to know this stuff. They've been good to us, most of them, and they don't keep secrets or have big blank spots in their records because they can't trust each other. We should be able to trust them by now. So I'm sorry, bro, but I'm gonna fill in the blanks for them, and let them judge, and I hope you can forgive me.

Prowl, buddy, you get to read this first. I think you can decide better than me if Prime or anybody else needs to see it. You've already earned our trust, even Sunny's (though he won't admit it). And this is probably the only time I'll ever be completely honest and serious with you, so you'd better be paying attention. I can only tell you what I remember, and there's some stuff Sunny's even managed to keep from me, but I think I can remember enough.

Man, this stuff hurts. I hate Spark-baring. Alright, Sides, you can do this. It all starts with two protoforms, one Spark, and the one place on Cybertron so ugly even Megatron thought it needed a serious revision...


	2. What Passes For A Childhood

What Passes For A Childhood

_Any citizen of Cybertron will tell you -- Kaon is a bad place to start out in. A city like Iacon may not really have less corruption, but at least it's less obvious and more likely to just ruin your life as opposed to, say, kill you._

_In Kaon, the criminals __**are**__ the lawmakers, and they don't even bother to hide it. So much energon comes through its streets and flows to just the right people, that no one really cares about who's running the place as long as it keeps running. Everybody's in on it -- the cops, the councilmen, the gangs, the businesses, the factories, even the foundries. It may sometimes look civilized on the surface, but it's all built on greed and self-interest and the oldest laws of survival in the galaxy. The strong eat the weak, and then get stabbed in the back themselves. Every minute of life is either bought and paid for, or stolen. If you're not being used by someone, you're being chased by people trying to use you. When you're not useful anymore, they throw you on the scrapheap. As they say in the guidefiles, "Life is cheap in Kaon... and death is entertainment."_

_Home, sweet home..._

- - - - -

"Alright, I'm here. Now what in Cybertron's moon is the problem?"

Medic Fixer looked down at the pair of newly Sparked protoforms standing blank-faced beside a nervous-looking foundry worker. They seemed perfectly healthy to him. Their optics were lit, their stances straight, the thin panels of bare metal (black in this case, one with red highlights and one with yellow) that served as armor for their newly created bodies fit correctly with not a seam out of place, and all their limbs appeared to be attached. No obvious reason he should have been summoned here in such haste, and Fixer started to say so.

As soon as he opened his mouth to speak, the pair tilted their heads. The movement was synchronized, eerily so. One uttered a querying chirp, the other replied a half-second later with a tone of identical frequency and duration. Fixer felt a chill creep through his fuel lines.

"Can't be," he muttered.

The worker -- a crane-bot whose name escaped Fixer at the moment -- began stammering. "They came online at the same time, exactly the same time. Their optics lit and they started making sounds back and forth, _seeking_ each other. Wouldn't stop until they were brought to stand side-by-side as you see them." The crane paused. When the medic made no reply, he ventured, "I think it was a Spark-split."

Fixer looked at the pair, taking in their nearly identical features -- only the helms differed slightly in shape -- and the way they stood in line with their arms at their sides, almost touching. They stared back, blank and curious in the way of new protoforms, but he thought there was already a hint of intelligence in those optics. Well. Two minds linked together might develop faster than one. Still, it didn't make his predicament easier.

"I'll have to run some tests," he said out loud, more to himself than to the worker. "We best hope it's not a split Spark. These things don't happen often, and for a damn good reason, I think. Going to be difficult to place them, if they are. No one wants that kind of headache." He shook his head at the waste of such a fine pair. "They'll probably just get farmed out to the factories."

Unaware of this discussion on the bleakness of their future, the protoforms bleeped to each other again, one then another a half-second apart. Confirming position, affirming that they were still together.

"Perhaps we could separate them?" the worker offered, trying to make a helpful suggestion. Fixer just stared.

"At this stage? They'll die," he said flatly. "Anytime before the personality is fully formed, move the two halves too far apart and you lose them both. They've tried before. If it is a case of splitting, we'll just have to cope. The factories can always use more able bodies, and they look strong. They might make it."

With that -- apart from the standard tests to be conducted on the health of the newborns, and a few more to determine the extent of the lingering Spark-bond -- Fixer washed his hands of both of them. He would be the first of many to do so, because he, like everyone else, had his own problems, and no one was obligated to shoulder the burden of a pair of blithely ignorant protoforms who had the misfortune of sharing one Spark in two bodies.

Kaon is a bad place for the helpless.

- - - - -

_I don't remember the foundry very well. That might seem odd since it was our first home, but then my brother and I weren't there very long. It was crowded as hell and they didn't have enough workers for half the Betas there. They tried to get rid of them as early as possible, soon as they found anyone with a use for young mechs._

_I dare say they were especially eager to get rid of the two of us. We were terrors back then. So notorious, they even gave us names -- which is saying something in a place so full they couldn't keep all our serial numbers straight most of the time. Sideswipe and Spin-Out, they called us: a couple of nasty road hazards nobody wanted to deal with. We weren't that bad, now that I look back on it, especially compared to what we'd become later. But at the time we thought we were hot shit, and wore the names with pride._

_I was pretty much the same 'bot back then as you know now, but Spin was another story. He was moody and kind of quiet and rude when he did speak and stubborn as hell and too proud for his own good (and that's all still true), but he didn't have the killer's Spark that he has today. In fact, he was almost shy when he wasn't defending his pride over some stupid point. He was interested in art, and read more than me, usually while I was out getting into some kind of trouble. The only times he even started something rough were when somebody messed with me, and then he didn't care _who_ you were..._

- - - - -

Inspections were a chore, but a necessity. Even in Kaon the foundries needed to assure some kind of quality control. Hence, on regularly scheduled occasions a group of officials would come in and do a quick look over the facilities, the records, the staff, and the Betas and Gammas themselves. Lining up the latter and convincing them to stand quietly and not make a fuss was perhaps the most difficult part of preparing for such inspections.

Sideswipe fidgeted yet again, watching intently to see if the nearest caretakers noticed. They didn't, or pretended not to, and he pouted in irritation. His Spark-twin beside him was as still as a statue, also patiently ignoring him; his crystal-blue optics were following the inspector as he moved up and down the line. Spin-Out didn't like the look of this mech. He seemed loud, domineering, _pushy_. The brothers did not take well to pushing.

_"Is he ever gonna get to us?"_ Sideswipe finally sent over their private channel. The two could communicate without resorting even to that, but when Sideswipe was this bored, talking in his head was better than doing nothing.

_"He spotted us already, a minute ago. He doesn't like us."_ Sullenness in Spin-Out's voice, in his expression. Sideswipe's mouth quirked.

_"Think we can get him to like us even less?"_

His brother did not reply. Finally the inspector made his way to their end of the row of Gammas. He looked them over critically, as with the others, but with a distinct scowl on his face. It wasn't their appearance -- they were both about as handsome as any young mech in the foundry, come to that. And they certainly looked strong and capable enough. But those insolent stances. The hint of a smirk on the red one. The yellow one's unflinching stare. He had seen many young 'bots, and he knew trouble when he saw it.

"You two!" he snapped, making nearby Gammas jump. "Your serial numbers?"

Sideswipe just grinned dumbly, as if not understanding what he'd been asked. Spin-Out stamped down an urge to shove him. He rattled off his own in a toneless voice, then sent a message to his brother. _"Quit screwing around, dummy."_

Sideswipe recited his serial number in a sing-song voice that made his brother visibly wince. The inspector's browplates rose and he drew back in irritation. The red twin wagged his head cheerfully to his own tune, like a 'bot gone out of his mind. He then launched from that into a childlike rhyme that had made the ranks of the foundry's Gammas a few stellar cycles ago. His voice rose and fell horribly, as if he had no sense of pitch. Finally the inspector bellowed.

"Enough!" He glared at the nearest worker, who was watching in horror. "Does this one have processor damage?" he demanded.

_"Good question,"_ Spin-Out communicated sourly to his twin.

"He's perfectly functional," asserted the caretaker quickly. Then, with a rather dark look at Sideswipe, "But he is known for... difficult behavior."

The inspector turned back to the pair. "Oh, is that the game?" he sneered. Then he reached out, grabbed the red twin by the front of his armor and jerked him out of the ranks. "Look here, brat, I am not a mech to be--"

He was in mid-bellow when Spin-Out decked him. The move itself, and the sheer force of it, caught the inspector completely by surprise. Letting go of Sideswipe, he took a step back and turned to confront the yellow twin, who was standing ready to throw another punch. The look on his face was such that the older mech briefly hesitated. Then he lunged -- just as Sideswipe came at him from the flank. The impact tumbled him off his feet, Sideswipe springing free before he could go down too and leaping back beside his brother.

Dozens of scuffles and brawls among the other younglings in the crowded foundry had favored the pair, quickening their reflexes and sharpening their wits, but they had never taken on a full-grown mech before. Now the caretakers were hastening forward, some to help the inspector up and offer profuse apologies, while others forcibly restrained the twins and dragged them off to lock-up as punishment.

As they lost sight of him, the twins heard the inspector bellowing clearly. "Those two had better be shipped out to the factory before I come back! I never want to see their faces in here again!"

_"Well,"_ remarked Sideswipe drily to his brother, _"Knew that would happen sooner or later."_

_"Who'd miss this dump anyway?"_ was the reply.

- - - - -

A/N: Betas are "infant" Cybertronians, still in the process of learning basic physical and communication abilities. Gammas are older children, who are capable of social interaction and are usually apprenticed to grown mechs to start learning a trade. Alphas are bodies without Sparks in them yet. And the foundry, of course, is where the bodies are built and the Sparks put into them. Cybertronians in my continuity are mass-produced. Just in case any of that was too badly written to figure out.

Reviews are always welcome!


	3. Out Of The Frying Pan

Out Of The Frying Pan

_For those who aren't familiar with how it works, let me explain. The factories in Kaon are always running, every minute of every stellar cycle, and they always need new hands to do the work that can't be done cheaper by automation. To save money, they hire most of their workforce as Gammas, right off the foundry's hands, and give them a choice: work sunrise to sunset for a few drops of energon every day, or take your chances on the streets._

_Believe it or not, most of 'em stay in the factories. The streets in Kaon are just that bad._

_But Spin and I were cocky, and we always did have more balls than brains, as the Earth saying goes. We weren't in the factory a week before we split. We wanted to stage a big breakout, thought it would be more dramatic, but the other kids thought we were crazy and nobody wanted to follow us, so we had to sneak out instead._

_'Course, no time at all after we slipped out, we started to think we'd made a big mistake after all..._

- - - - -

The streets of Kaon teemed with the lost young, straggled out from the foundries and the factories and from neglectful mentors. Some were homeless; others had made _this_ their home. Occasional security patrols would sweep through to round up unclaimed Gammas, but the smart ones avoided them. Freedom meant starvation -- but giving it up might mean any number of worse things.

Resources were scarce, and acquired by stealing or fighting. The youngsters usually traveled in groups (_gangs_, as the more civilized and fortunate denizens of Cybertron referred to them with a shudder) rather than risk tenuous survival alone, though such groups broke up violently whenever the resources gathered failed to satisfy all members. When two groups met, there was even more violence. Often the streets were littered with bodies of Cybertronians who had seen less than a century of life. They sometimes lay for weeks before anyone came to pick them up, by which time they had been stripped of all recyclable parts and reduced to a featureless skeleton.

In the midst of this metallic jungle, this vicious cycle of deactivation and uncertain existence, two mechs moved alone and apart. They joined the gangs, but never for long. They kept close together and slept in a different place each night. They stole cunningly and fought, when cornered, with the ferocity of four or five mechs. This pair, as you might have guessed, were Sideswipe and Spin-Out. A few months with neither caretakers nor home had left them barely recognizable: once-glossy plating gone dull and scuffed, bright optics dim with perpetual hunger, Sideswipe's cocky grin replaced by a hardened, feral expression. His brother's was worse; grown mechs avoided meeting Spin-Out's optics.

The pair had nothing, save each other and their pride. Despite this, they fought harder than ever to keep what they had. Having once taken each other for granted as a natural part of existence, they were now determined not to lose one another.

In a dingy alleyway behind an ancient warehouse, in the last of the day's grimy sunlight, the twins stood their ground. The gang they faced numbered five mechs currently, and there were probably more on the way. Still, the five were reluctant to approach. There had been a running fight to get to this point, and now, with the dead-end alley at their back and a gauntlet of foes in front of them, the pair looked grim and defiant, ready to take down as many mechs with them as they could. Energon leaked from under Sideswipe's helm and dripped off a wound on Spin-Out's leg. Three of their opponents were injured as well.

"You've got nowhere to run," said the current leader of the little gang for perhaps the fourth or fifth time. The bravado in his voice had wavered since they last tried to rush the pair.

"You see us running?" Spin-Out's optics flicked from one member of the opposition to another, cold and hard. "You're more scared than we are. All of you."

"What'd we do to you, anyway?" his brother asked.

The leader shifted uncertainly. "Told you, this isn't your turf. Everything here is ours. You're not welcome."

"So let us leave," suggested the red twin reasonably.

A head shake. "You might come back. Maybe with friends. Who knows? Sorry, but you should have read the signs."

"So should you," boomed a deep voice from behind the gang. Both sides jumped and looked around. An enormous mech stood in the entrance to the alleyway, streetlamps casting a shadow for yards beyond his bulk. "Sign says 'No trespassing'. That goes for your pack, too, much as you might think you own the place."

In a sudden situation reversal, the gang found themselves trapped, with the fuel-thirsty twins on one side and the imposing tower of a mech on the other. Give him credit, the leader tried to hold on to his authority. "Are you kidding? Nobody _owns_ this dump! Don't tell me you make the rules around he--"

"Just so happens I do." The mech held out an arm, and panels slid back revealing the shining barrel of a built-in weapon, polished and well-maintained compared to the mech's exterior roughness. "This dump is my home, and I don't tolerate the presence of you scavengers." He took a step to the side, resting his back against the wall of the warehouse, gun pointed casually at the ground. "You have a clean exit and ten seconds to take it. Move fast."

They took the hint. The five packed against each other in haste to clear out, yelling back a few threats once they were safely out of blasting range. The mech shook his head, retracted his weapon... and then noticed the twins had not moved.

"No quarrel with either of you," he informed them, "but I'd suggest you leave before those scraplets come nosing back. They do, you know. I have to chase 'em out almost every night."

The pair just stared at him, too weary to bother fleeing or posturing. "We don't have anywhere to go," Sideswipe pointed out, shrugging. His brother leaned back heavily against a wall, trying to look like his leg wasn't about to give out on him.

The huge mech watched them for a long moment in silence. Then he slowly shook his head, as if arguing with himself. Finally he said, "You look pretty strong, though. Can't figure how you're in such a state. Surely you could find some work somewhere."

"We've taken a few jobs, here and there." Sideswipe perked up slightly. "You don't have work for us, do you?"

The mech shook his head regretfully. "Haven't had any work for myself in a while, let alone anybody else. But I might know a place..." He trailed off. "Why don't you both come in for some energon?" he asked abruptly. "I do have a little of that to spare, and you look like you could use it."

To say the offer floored them was an understatement. In the months they'd been out, no one had helped them without demanding something in return. It went strongly against everything they'd been taught to respect. Suspicion flickered in their minds, but so did something else -- a longing they had perhaps always felt but had never acknowledged. A need for kindness. It was starved, atrophied, almost vestigial, but it stirred nonetheless, when it felt a hand reaching out. The twins looked at each other in uncertain temptation.

The big mech waited, then shrugged. He turned and lumbered slowly off back to wherever he called home. A few beats later, slowly and tentatively, like a pair of alley cats following the scent of food, the twins crept after him.

- - - - -

**A/N**: Three guesses what's going to happen. No, seriously. Winner gets a cookie.

Just to warn you, this fic is not likely to be updated every night. I wish that were so, but I know myself better than that. Just be patient if I seem to go absent once in a while. I have the whole story planned out in my head, it won't be left hanging if I have anything to say about it.

Thank you reviewers, and I'm glad you like the odd style this fic settled on. It pretty much wrote itself this way in my brain. Let me know if any of the writing comes out seeming awkward, okay?


	4. Into The Smelter

Into The Smelter

_We should've known. Ah, damn, we should've_ known_. Random stranger offering a hand just when you need it... that stuff only happens in bad holovids. Not in the world we grew up in. For the life of me, I can't remember what possessed us to trust that guy and follow him in. But it would be the last time either of us trusted anybody else for a long, long time._

- - - - -

Sideswipe woke in a haze, not sure where he was. He and his brother had woken up in some odd places, but he didn't recognize this one. The floor he was lying on was dusty and discolored with what looked like old oil stains. A dim greenish light shone from panels in the ceiling. There was a discordant hum of bad wiring nearby. Something told him they were underground--

He sat up, panic displacing the fog in his processor, and looked around wildly. The room was scarcely bigger than a Solitary cell in the foundry (and he was well acquainted with the dimensions of those). The only door was shut tight and bore long score marks, as if claws had been dragged along it. There was no objects in the room save for Sideswipe and his twin, who was still unconscious. And--

He felt something around his neck, raised his hands, and was swept by a wave of disbelief. It was a _collar_. Heavy, warm, and giving off a faint electronic hum...

"Spin, wake up! Don't freak out, but... I think we're in trouble."

His brother jerked awake with a yell, almost punching him. Sideswipe fell back and Spin-Out sat up, optics flickering. He had a couple of fresh paint scrapes and a nasty new dent on his helm. He also wore a collar identical to Sideswipe's. He looked around, then clenched his fists.

"How long were we out, Sides?"

"I don't know. Do you remember what happened?"

"I... yeah." Spin-Out rubbed his head fiercely in an attempt to dredge up the memory. "Someone grabbed us... I woke up, but you didn't. We were being carried, and I heard voices. Tried to fight, but I could barely move, then one of the slaggers bashed me on the head. I don't remember after that."

The last thing Sideswipe recalled was drinking from a cube the strange mech handed to him -- a full cube! -- and suddenly feeling very tired. So tired, he was afraid he wasn't going to finish his energon...

_The energon_. "He drugged us," Sideswipe realized. "Remember in the foundry when they put stuff in our fuel to make us all sleepy?"

His brother was quiet for a long time. "Slag," he finally said.

_So it was a trap_, they were thinking. Disappointment there, some regret, anger even... but no surprise. No, not the least bit of surprise.

Giving up a brief and futile struggle with his own collar, Spin-Out reached for his brother. They embraced as they had countless times in the past, when they were overwhelmed, upset, worried, or just needed reassurance that they weren't alone. No words, just holding. Spark-to-Spark, the quiet steady synchronized pulse speaking for them: _We. Us. Here. Alive. Okay_.

Spin-Out's head rested on his twin's shoulder as his hands traced patterns over Sideswipe's back armor, patterns that were soothing to them both. What could have been hours passed. Finally Spin stopped and raised his head.

"Someone's coming."

They both listened to the heavy footsteps approaching. When the door opened, the twins stood to confront it, but linked their fingers in a continued reminder of togetherness.

A bulky figure entered. He was taller than they, but not quite as massive as the towering mech who had offered them energon. He had a truck grill for a chest and a broad face. His optics flicked over the pair, assessing them quickly, and an odd chill crept through their shared Spark. This was not a mech whose mercy they trusted. Two more ugly lugs walked behind, flanking them, but they stopped outside the doorway of the little cell. The foremost mech wasted no time in speaking.

"Hammerfall wasn't lying. You both look strong. That's good, because you're going to need that strength. Now pay attention. My name is Clench, and from now on you will be working for me."

"Doing what?" Sideswipe asked.

Clench's expression didn't change. He flicked a switch on a small device attached to his wrist... and the twins collapsed screaming to the floor as their sensor nets were overloaded. Electricity arced over their surface panels and crackled inside their open mouths as they convulsed uncontrollably. Clench watched calmly for a few seconds before switching off the signal. The convulsions stopped, though the twins' bodies continued to shudder and twitch.

"Those collars are a thing of beauty," he said proudly. "They're tuned to the frequency of your neural nets. With this little baby here, I can shut off your sensor input, block motor impulses and leave you paralyzed, or just shock you silly. I hope that discourages further interruptions.

"As I was saying, you will now work for me. What kind of work, you'll find out soon enough. Suffice to say it will make full use of your skills. If you resist, you'll be punished. I know hundreds of ways to hurt a mech, so don't think I can't break you. I've never met a 'bot I couldn't train. You two will not be the ones to ruin that record. Are we clear?"

Spin-Out regained the use of his vocalizer first. He immediately uttered the foulest word either of them could think of.

Another shock coursed through them, shorter than the one before -- almost a warning zap. Sideswipe groaned and kicked in his brother's direction. _"Don't do that again!"_

Spin-Out picked himself up, slowly. He glared at the mech in the doorway. "You're pretty brave when you can knock us down without even touching us. But you can't make us work. If you're going to kill us, get it over with!" He clenched his fists -- an unnarmed Gamma with fresh injuries, daring the world to try him. Youth and pride and stupidity and righteous anger all rolled into one. His brother groaned again, but scrambled up to join him, because he couldn't let Spin-Out get slagged alone. _"Now you've really done it,"_ he sent silently to his twin.

Then Clench smiled. It did nothing to make his face more pleasant -- if anything, it was one of the scariest sights they'd ever seen. Removing the signaling device from his wrist, he tossed it over his shoulder, not even watching where it hit. Then he spread his arms in a gesture of invitation.

"Of course. A weak trainer only holds the leash as long as he holds the stick. I've put down the stick... Now, see if you can get past me." They made no move, and he sneered. "Pair of brave faces, the both of you. All mouth and no bearings. I'm disappointed. I thought surely as soon as my hands were empty you'd--"

They lunged. It wasn't the taunts that drove them, just the fact that he was standing in the door and their only other option was to lie down and submit... which was unthinkable. At least they had an opportunity to fight. They gave it everything they had, fists and feet flying, working in unison and pitching into Clench with the fury of a pack of mechs.

And he knocked them back down as if they were made of tin.

They tried, and tried again. But each time they came at him, he was ready. A punch would fly at just the right instant. A steely hand would close around their arm or leg and, with no apparent effort, fling them aside. The battering soon took its toll. Sideswipe's helm cracked and began leaking energon from where he'd struck it too hard against a wall. Spin-Out's leg was bleeding again. Each time the twins hit the floor, it took them a little longer to pick themselves back up. Finally they couldn't, and lay exhausted at Clench's feet, willing their bodies to keep fighting to no avail.

But it wasn't over. Now Clench advanced on them, and proceeded to beat the weary, weakened, frightened pair of Gammas within an inch of their lives. Clangs of metal on metal rang off the walls of the small room in a sick cacophany. Spin-Out whimpered twice, a pitiful sound like nothing his brother had ever heard him make before. Sideswipe himself cried out repeatedly through the numbing shock that was beginning to settle over his processor. Natural defenses were kicking in, all too slowly. One by one his systems shut down.

When the last blow fell, he was barely conscious enough to realize it. Dimly, though, he heard Clench's voice, speaking as calmly as before.

"That concludes our _first_ lesson."

- - - - -

(The Author will now curl up in a corner and cry.)

By the by, **blood shifter** gets a cookie (you were right the first time, hun). So does **Anhai**, who was sort of right both times. And **Dragon of Dispair** ("recruitment" was one way to put it). **OblivionDragon** gets half a cookie. Nice work, guys.

Yes, Spin-Out was Sunstreaker's original American name, which was changed before his toy release. I made it his original name here since it matches his brother's better. You'll all see where Sunstreaker comes from later. (Free to make guesses on that as well, I'd love to see if any of you figure it out.)

**Robin Moto**: Oh, you're psychic. Unfortunately. Hope _is_ a terrible thing.

**akisawana**: I know, their choices suck. But they ain't gonna stop trying. Nope.

**Okami-chan**: Interesting questions. Okay, in this storyline (which I admittedly pieced together from several different sources, so bear with me), the Quintesson occupation was a long, long time ago. Quints didn't create Transformers, though they claimed to have at one time, as a way of controlling the race they'd enslaved. In truth, the foundries were in place and operating before the Quints ever showed up, but no one alive remembers that. As far as anyone can tell, Cybertron itself gave birth to Cybertronians. Some, however, still believe the Quintesson propaganda.

Okay, the way the foundries work is still sort of mysterious. They produce Transformers, but the Transformers themselves are not fully aware of every aspect of the process. They can monitor and study it, but they don't have much control over what comes out, just the materials and designs they put in. Vector Sigma is the machine at the heart of Cybertron connected to all the foundries, and it is what sends them directions. It dictates each mech's individual variations, so that no two mechs, even of the same model, are ever exactly alike.

Sigma also installs the Spark when the body is ready to come online. This process is the most mysterious part of the whole darn thing, so don't be surprised if it still throws the Transformers themselves a curve. Most agree that Sparks all come from one Source, which some say to be Primus, others a different dimension, still others believe it's simply a physical entity in the core of Cybertron like Sigma itself. A bit of Spark splits off from this one Source and travels through Sigma's circuitry to the foundry where it is installed in the body. That means that each Spark is still slightly connected to all other Sparks (this has been proven in tests, and is the main evidence for the Source theory). However, sometimes the process hits snags. A body doesn't come fully online and the Spark returns with its mission unfulfilled... or, in the case of twins, one complete Spark already destined for a body suddenly "splits" and enters two bodies instead. They are nearly always bodies of the same model, usually side-by-side in the foundry or at least close to each other. These bodies have individual appearances and personalities like everyone else (the personality Core is separate from the Spark, though connected), but the split halves of Spark share a bond that is much closer than the one which normally connects all Cybertronians. So close, that if one twin dies the other almost inevitably follows. Half a Spark dims without the other, pulled after it into the void, back to the Source. And this is more than most Cybertronians even know. Yes, their world is still full of mysteries. Twins are one of the biggest.

I hope that gives some answers, in addition to raising more interesting questions. Love you all for reviewing. I'll keep churning out chapters as fast as I can.


	5. Enjoy Your Accomodations

Enjoy Your Accomodations

_This is where our lives really begin. I mean, we remember everything before -- the foundry, the streets and all -- but it's vague by comparison. Almost like our whole lives were a dream before we woke up there, in the Pit._

_For a few days we were alone in that little cell. No one else came to see us, not even Clench (not that we complained). We did have plenty of energon. One of the guards fed us through a slot in the door... gave us a little bowl too, so they could collect waste and throw it out. Humiliating, but not like we were gonna refuse. The place didn't have a receptacle._

_Anyway, we slept a lot. Not much else to do, plus our bodies would repair faster that way. We didn't really have anything to talk about, so when we weren't in recharge we just held each other or sat staring into space and thinking. I fidgeted a lot, tried to scratch my name on the walls out of boredom. Spin wouldn't leave his dents alone. Kept trying to pop them out or rub off the scrapes. I told him it wouldn't do any good, and he just scowled at me. He'd always been vain, but seeing it like this, after everything we'd been through, sort of worried me. Like it was becoming a compulsion or something._

_Must've been close to a decacycle _1_ before we saw Clench again. I'm ashamed to admit, as soon as the door opened and we saw him standing there, we both freaked. Did a pretty good job not showing it though. But all he did was tell us to follow him..._

- - - - -

The cuffs itched. They were electrified, same as the collars, and Sideswipe kept fidgeting with them even though he tried not to. The twins followed Clench at as much of a distance as he would allow. Spin-Out was watching him constantly, wary of an attack, or perhaps looking for an opportunity to try one himself. Sideswipe really hoped he wouldn't do something stupid. Keeping one optic on his brother and Clench, he tried to look around as they walked. There wasn't much to see, as the hallways were a brighter-lit version of the room they'd been living in. The lights looked recently installed, and the dingy floor and walls showed some signs of polishing and maintenance, unlike their cell. It looked like the place had been abandoned for some time, then taken over and turned into some kind of... _lair_ was the only word that came to mind.

It did not reassure him. Still, any sight outside of the four walls they'd gotten used to was interesting at this point. Running away was out of the question with the collars and the thugs they glimpsed here and there acting as guards, but Sideswipe kept an eye out for possible escape routes anyway.

"So," he asked casually after a minute, bracing himself for another shock, "where are we going?"

Clench seemed to ignore him for a minute. Then he stopped at a door and keyed it open, gesturing inside. "In there. _Move_," he added as they hesitated.

Between facing _that_ tone and facing the unknown door... the twins entered cautiously. The room they found themselves in was much larger than the one they had left, and filled with long tables arranged in rows under banks of harsh, directed lights. The tables gleamed dully, their surfaces worn and dull with either age or neglect, darkened here and there as if with oil stains that had never been scrubbed completely off. More stains patterned the floor if one looked closely enough, though it was probably best not to. One of the central tables was laid out with rows of tools, polished to an immaculate gleam, in contrast to everything around them. Their keen glittering edges, the omnipresent stains, the cruel lights, and the tables with their ominous-looking restraining devices gave the whole place a sinister feel. Sideswipe felt chilled just being here, as if coolant were seeping into his Core.

He looked at Spin nervously, but Spin was watching something else. A strange mech was coming toward them around the corner of a row of tables. He was short and wiry and studied the twins with a glowing yellow visor in place of optics, mouth quirked into a sort of amused sneer. Sideswipe's inner chill became an arctic blast when he glanced at the mech's hands -- they were long and articulated, almost claw-like, and stained in the same way the tables were, with what looked a _lot_ like dried oil and droplets of spent energon. He quickly forced his optics away.

"These are your latest... acquisitions?" The mech spoke in an odd hissing tone, still smiling at the twins in that unsettling way as he directed the question at Clench. "Where did you find them, I wonder?"

"Picked 'em up off the streets. Hammerfall gave me the tip." Clench spoke brusquely, and it was obvious to the twins that even _he_ didn't like this mech much. "He set a pretty price, too, so you'd better tell me they were worth it."

"Oh, I should think so, but we'd better be sure, hadn't we?" Chuckling, the little mech fished up some kind of battered handheld scanner and began waving it slowly around at the twins. Sideswipe shot a look at Clench.

"It's just a medical exam," the truck snapped. "Quit cowering and let Hacksaw do his job."

_Medical?_ Sideswipe studied the smaller 'bot incredulously. _He sure doesn't look like a medic_.

He tried not to wince too noticeably as Hacksaw grabbed his arm. The oil-stained claws were surprisingly strong as they pinched, testing the metal. "Hm." The mech considered, his manner now professional. "A bit under-armored, but that is to be expected. Will need reinforcing." He was talking to Clench, ignoring Sideswipe completely; Sideswipe bristled at being treated like an object, but one look at Clench with his finger ready on the "shock button" made him grit his jaw and bear it.

Hacksaw moved on to his joints, twisting and bending them just shy of hurting, under close scrutiny. "Need to be cleaned... still, not gummed as bad as I usually see." He went on, wrenching at Sideswipe's armor plates to see how firmly they were attached, poking hard at some of his dents, then grabbing his head and pulling it forward to inspect the helm. Every instinct in the red twin's body was screaming at him to resist and he clenched his fists to keep the fidgeting to a minimum. He didn't look, but he knew his brother was watching like a hawk and just waiting for a cue to jump in. "They look a bit battered," Hacksaw continued after a moment, "but I don't see any lasting damage resulting from these dents. Your handiwork, Clench, I take it?"

The bigger 'bot snorted. "They needed some convincing. Temperamental kids. Especially the yellow one."

"Hm. Well, this one appears healthy enough given circumstances. Still recovering from long-term energon depletion -- I'd recommend giving them a little 'something' to kick-start their systems. I can supply you with a mix that will do the trick." Finished with manhandling one twin, he let him go and turned to his brother. "Now, this other one..."

Sideswipe felt Spin-Out's tension across their link like a strained cable, and silently willed him to keep still.

"This one's taken some heavier damage, though his armor seems to be a bit thicker. Same condition of energon depletion... they both show remarkable powers of recuperation. With training, those will improve." He moved from testing Spin-Out's armor strength to inspecting his helm, still talking to Clench. "They're a handsome pair, too. If anything, perhaps a bit too pretty... that won't last long, you know."

"It will as long as it pays," retorted Clench. "More 'bots come to see a mech that's easy on the optics."

"True, true." Noticing Spin-Out's healing leg injury, Hacksaw scanned it, then prodded it with a claw. "And a pair of attractive twins... well. I would say you got more worth than you paid for--"

Whether it was the subject of conversation and uneasy connotations it conjured up, or the sudden jabbing of a fuel-encrusted claw into his wound, Spin-Out's patience reached its limit. Sideswipe felt the coiled tension within his brother suddenly release. Spin's foot lashed out and sent the medic sprawling backward, while his hand shot out to grab the nearest available sharp object.

Clench reacted immediately, and Spin-Out crashed to the floor, convulsing, as the voltage coursed through him. Sideswipe was shocked too, and fell to his knees clutching at the agonizing collar. After a few seconds the current switched off and he found himself yanked back up. Clench twisted an arm behind his back at an angle that made damage sensors start screaming warnings at him, gripping his wrist so hard the metal buckled. Sideswipe arched and whimpered, unwilling to struggle lest he tear through the stressed arm joints.

"You try that again," Clench said coldly to Spin-Out as the yellow twin picked himself up, "and your brother's going to be in here awhile."

The threat was more effective than any shock or beating. Hacksaw picked up the dropped tool and went back to work on Spin-Out's leg, and the yellow mech endured him without so much as a cry, staring fixedly at his brother the whole time. Not until the medic announced that he was done did Clench let Sideswipe out of the excruciating hold.

"We're done here? Good. When can I bring them in for their upgrades?"

"Hmm... complete armor and sensory upgrade to start, I think... could take some time. I'll see you in, err, five cycles. I should have the necessary parts procured by then. And I'll mix up those fuel additives for you tomorrow. Meantime, my other clients are waiting."

"Fine, then get back to work." Clench gave Sideswipe a shove in the direction of the door and gestured for Spin-Out to follow them.

As soon as they were back in the hallway, he sent both twins a jolt that knocked them to the floor, then grabbed the yellow twin. "It seems you're in need of another lesson," he growled, and raised his fist.

. . . . .

When they were returned to their cell, Spin-Out curled up in a corner and refused to talk. Sideswipe paced for a while, rubbing his arm, trying to get rid of the sensation that Clench was still gripping it. Then he stopped and stared for a long time at his brother. Finally he reached into a gap in his torso plating, where he'd hidden a little something he swiped from the repair bay.

Head down, optics shut, Spin tensed when he felt something soft brush over the sensors on his helm. Then a gentle pressure, causing him to look up and see his brother kneeling next to him. Sideswipe was holding a clean cloth in his hand and using it to polish his twin's dull plating.

"Sides?" Too surprised and tired to say any more.

"Shhh." A small smear of oil was wiped off his cheek. "Just hold still, bro. I'll handle this."

Diligently he went to work over every ding and dent and scrape Clench's latest teaching had left, folding the cloth over and over as he rubbed until a faint gleam returned. It wasn't very visible in their dim environment, but it satisfied Sideswipe and he knew it would make his brother feel better. The soft rhythmic stroking was also helping to soothe the sensors that still throbbed dully from the beating. He did it all with one hand, since the other arm was still twinging, but it was worth it. Totally worth it. When a hint of spark returned to his brother's tired optics and his face relaxed in contentment, Sideswipe almost purred.

Eventually the filth on the rag made it useless, and so the red twin let it drop, but kept moving his hand over Spin-Out's body in light stroking circles. Suddenly a yellow arm reached out and wrapped around him, pulling him into a snug embrace. Spin-Out would accept hugs, but he hadn't initiated one in a long time, that Sideswipe could remember. It was a real sign of how their situation was getting to him.

"Thanks." Spin nudged Sideswipe's helm with his own. "You didn't use the other arm. Is it okay?"

A twinge of pain accompanied the question, faint, a memory. "It's fine. Just stressed."

"I'm going to kill him for hurting you."

Sideswipe froze. The words were spoken so calmly that he wasn't sure he'd heard right. Then he said, "Spin, don't try anything. Please. You can't take him, and I don't want to lose y--"

"Sides. Be quiet." His brother rested a finger on his lips, then spoke to him on their private frequency. _"I won't do anything yet. I'm just going to watch him. He has to make a mistake sooner or later. I'll be waiting."_ He settled down, preparing for recharge, still twined with his twin. _"We're going to get out of here, Sides. Trust me. You'll see."_

Doubt worried at his mind, but Sideswipe allowed himself to trust. He rested his head on Spin-Out's chest and let his optics darken.

_We're going to get out of here._

- - - - -

1 A cycle is a planetary rotational cycle -- in other words, a day. Cybertron's days are a tad shorter than ours (the planet is small, but rotates slowly). A decacycle is a ten-day, the closest measurement they have to a week. I know these probably don't match any of the canon explanations, but they make a heck of a lot more sense to me, so there you go.

As always, reviews are sought after.


	6. The Gladiator Trainers' Handbook

6. Gladiator Training Manual

(A/N: Particularly brutal chapter to follow. This is the reason the fic is M-rated, people.)

_That was the end of our rest. Pretty soon we'd be looking forward to seeing that cell again. As dreary as it was, it was going to be our only sanctuary for a long time._

_We weren't the only ones to belong to Clench. There were others -- Gammas like us, mostly from the streets, some from detention centers or even from mentors who'd given them up in exchange for payment. All kept in separate cells, except for Sunny and me. I guess they didn't want the kids planning a revolt... or more likely, killing each other in their sleep. Not an unfounded fear, trust me. These were not nice kids. They were used to looking out for themselves and didn't care a bit for Sunny and me (not that we cared about them either)._

_Now's the really hard part. I have to tell you what it was like for us in there. You can't understand Sunny and me otherwise. But I don't know how to put it without sounding melodramatic, or toning it down too much because I really don't want to remember it all that vividly. Not that I can really help it. Sometimes I wake up and don't know where I am for a minute, and it all comes back -- every detail, every sound and smell and texture -- and I have to sit up and look all around just to be sure it's not real._

_Trust me, it isn't hard to turn a mech into a monster. Just follow all the tips and tricks I learned from Clench..._

- - - - -

_1: Turn him into your property. Remake him, remold him, and stamp him with a trademark so he knows who he belongs to. Take everything he had before, even his self._

"-- status: Online."

"About time." The first thing Spin-Out heard coming out of stasis was Clench's voice. That wasn't very reassuring, but much louder internal alarms were clamoring for his attention. Everything felt wrong. Everything felt different. His body felt heavier, off-balance, and something was preventing him from sitting up to look. He raised his head far enough to see the heavy cuffs that held down his wrists. It took him a moment to realize they _were_ his wrists -- the armor panels on the arms were the wrong shade, too bulky, and worn dull with countless little scratches and dents, imperfections that made him feel dirty just to look at. These didn't belong on him. They weren't his. They were _wrong_.

A hand tapped the side of his helm and caused him to jerk his head around with a violent growl. "Beauty rest is over," Clench informed him gruffly. "Hacksaw's finished your upgrades. The other one's almost done."

_Other one? Sideswipe_... Oh, he remembered being dragged in here now, struggling when Hacksaw tried to get them into the restraints, being shocked until he lost consciousness. "Where's my brother?" he asked in near-panic.

Clench gestured, and Spin-Out turned his head to follow, craning his neck as far as it would go. He could just make out the table Sideswipe lay on, still unconscious. His Spark choked -- several armor panels had been removed and portions of his twin's wiring lay exposed. What armor he did have was as foreign as what Spin-Out now wore: a heavy, dull-red plating. It made Sideswipe look older and more battered than he was. Hacksaw was bending over him, attaching another panel to his arm, and the hiss of sparks and the smell of hot weld made Spin-Out sick to his Core. He turned away.

Some time later the sounds of his work stopped and Hacksaw announced, "Finished with this one, too. It may take a while for them to adjust to the new exo-plating. It's significantly heavier than what they're used to--"

"They'd better manage," Clench said shortly.

"No doubt. But see to it that they are given the enhanced energon mixture for the first few decacycles of training. It will help to give them a... jump start."

Spin-Out knew it was better not to speak, but the tension was driving him insane. "If you're done, can't you let us go already?"

Hacksaw had come into view now, standing over Spin-Out, and he smirked. "Patience. Just one thing left to do." He glanced at Clench. "Ready when you are."

Spin-Out's head whipped toward Clench, who was now holding something -- a short, thick rod with a pointed metal tip. He pressed something and within seconds the tip began to glow, first red, then white-hot. Spin-Out's optics brightened with fear. He tensed up, strapped down too tightly to struggle. "What are you--"

Hacksaw's disconcertingly strong claws grabbed his head and wrenched it to one side. Clench held the rod-tip against his cheek, and a scream began. It continued, rising and falling, broken by curses and pleas, as the searing-hot point slowly carved an intricate symbol into metal softened and blackened by the heat. Neither Clench nor Hacksaw seemed particularly bothered by the noise. When the sigil on his cheek was complete, Hacksaw turned Spin-Out's head and Clench calmly repeated the process on the other side. Then he added a third symbol -- this one different, though Spin-Out was in no shape to realize it at the time -- onto the back of one of the sensitive projections that framed his helm, the scream becoming louder as he did so. His slow, methodical pace never wavered.

Spin-Out didn't realize he'd begun screaming until he stopped. His brother was now awake, and frantically shouting from the other table, asking what was going on. He couldn't bring himself to answer.

"Guess it's his turn then," said Hacksaw with one of his eerie smiles. He patted Spin-Out on the head in a disgusting parody of affection, then the two of them moved on to Sideswipe.

Spin-Out braced himself. Sure enough, his brother started screaming a second later. It didn't last very long, though it probably seemed like an eternity to Sideswipe. When it was over, Spin-Out heard his twin's voice, weak and strained across their tightlink: _"Why, Spin?"_

"Why?" he asked directly of Clench. The trainer turned to him slowly.

"If you work for me, you'll wear my mark. The more painful it is receiving that mark, the better you'll remember who you belong to. I consider it another lesson. One that tends to stick." He looked them over, surveying his work with satisfaction. "You should both feel honored. I only place my mark on the best."

_Honored?_ Spin-Out thought in shock. He was wearing someone else's armor. He had someone's mark of ownership on his _face_. But he was supposed to feel _honored_? He felt... violated.

He glared helplessly at Clench, and the bastard _laughed_ at his expression.

"I think we're through. Hacksaw, be sure to get their collars on before you release them. I don't think they appreciate their new gift."

- - - - -

_2: Make it clear from the start that his only choices are to obey you, or die._

"This is what you will be doing," explained Clench as they looked over the training room. Two other Gammas stood in the center, circling each other, each wielding a long staff. They struck and dodged and pivoted, clashing and then leaping back, only to be driven into the center again by heavily built mechs who jabbed them with electrified poles. It was a furious spectacle, not far from one-on-one confrontations among some of the gangs the twins were familiar with... except that here the two were clearly being forced to fight. Both wore expressions of desperation, and their movements suggested those of trapped animals more than anything. Sideswipe shuddered, and could feel his brother's rigid defiance beside him.

Clench continued, "First you will train under several instructors, like them--" he pointed out the larger mechs who were supervising the fight. "Most of them I've trained myself, so you are to obey them as you would me. They will instruct you in the use of weapons, hone your reflexes, and prepare you for the Arena. Once they, and I, have been satisfied by your progress, you will both get to test your mettle in combat."

"Why would we _want_ to?" Sideswipe asked aloud. Both twins winced visibly as one of the combatants landed a blow that split the other's helm with a loud _crack_. The stricken Gamma fell, exposed wiring crackling ominously, and seemed unable to get back up. One of the trainers came over and prodded him with the shocking end of the pole, receiving only a weak moan in response.

Clench gave the twins a warning look, making their collars tingle uncomfortably in reminder. "Are you telling me you won't?"

Spin-Out spoke for them this time. "What happens if we refuse?"

The wounded mech had apparently been determined unfit for battle, and was being dragged from the room. Clench smirked. "Fair enough question. Growl!" he bellowed at the instructor who was doing the dragging. "Throw that wreck into the repair bay and bring back the other one. The _quiet_ one."

Growl snickered as though it were a joke. "You got it, Boss."

He wasn't gone long, and when he returned he was dragging another mech, also a battered heap. As he was brought closer to them Sideswipe could see cracks in the armor, wires hanging out, fluids of every color. The face was a frozen silent scream, both optics torn out. The center of the chest was wide open--

-- and the Core was gone.

As the deactivated corpse was dragged in front of them, Sideswipe took an involuntary step back, but then felt Clench's hand on the back of his head. "Look," the head trainer commanded, shoving the brothers to their knees, almost rubbing their faces in the dead mech. "Take a good, long look. This mech wasn't killed in a fight. The son of a scraplet _refused_ to fight. Look where it got him."

Sideswipe was too riveted even to close his optics; the blank endless stare of the corpse generated a sort of sick hypnosis. _"Is that... what we look like... inside?"_

His brother sounded somewhere between disgust and awe. _"They just ripped out his Core... just like that..."_

_"What does it take to even DO that?"_

_"I don't know. But I bet he was glad when they did."_

And in that moment, both brothers understood. _This_ was the only way out. If they refused Clench, this would be the only result. But if they obeyed him...

Sideswipe remembered the damaged mech being dragged from the ring and thought of it being his brother. Then he imagined his brother winning the match, nearly destroying another mech -- and somehow that made him feel sicker.

But thinking of Spin-Out lying _here_, as dead as this mech before them, was completely unbearable. Sideswipe looked at his twin, who looked back at him, and they came to a conclusion.

_This won't be us._

"So?" Clench pressed. "Do you mean to tell me you refuse?"

This time, the pair merely shook their heads.

- - - - -

_3: Never tolerate weakness._

Hacksaw's "special mix" was definitely doing _something_. For the last three cycles Sideswipe had felt as though every wire, myomer(1), and energon conduit in his frame was burning. White-hot plasma fire seemed to course down his limbs if he so much as twitched his fingers -- not painful, but nonetheless excruciating. When he stood still, his body vibrated with palpable tremors and gave little spasming jerks and tics. His sensors were overactive, turning every soft clink of armor into a rattling cacophany, every dim light into a hypnotizing blaze, every rough surface into a riot of texture. He couldn't concentrate. He couldn't think. He couldn't _stop_ thinking. His processor raced so much it was almost an audible whirr. He couldn't even shut down for recharge until his body had burned off most of the morning's charge, and then the crash was killer -- aches and pains and phantom sensastions, tingling limbs and spinning gyros.

At the start of this cycle he had barely managed to consume his ration, and now it felt ready to come back up any minute. His systems did not like what he'd been giving them. They threatened rebellion. Only stubbornness had kept him from giving in thus far -- that, and the fact that his brother seemed to be keeping the stuff down pretty well.

During their third sparring session in a row, however, he finally lost the battle. Lugnut, their trainer/tormentor for the day, was teaching them staff-fighting by way of swinging at the twins and forcing them to block, or get hit. Sideswipe was sloppy, and Lugnut cracked him a good one alongside the helm. He fell on his hands and knees... and instead of getting back up, he heaved violently as all his unconverted energon was purged onto the floor. For a moment he completely forgot about Lugnut. Lugnut, however, chose not to forget about him. He gave the fallen twin a heavy kick that sent him sprawling into his own mess.

"Waste!" he bellowed. "Good fuel on the floor!" He jabbed Sideswipe with one end of the staff -- which happened to be electrified -- and set him howling.

Spin-Out swung his own staff as hard as he could and broke it across Lugnut's back, almost denting the heavy armor. Lugnut spun around and caught the vengeful twin with a sweeping blow to the midsection, sending him flying into the wall with a hard _smack_. Then he triggered Spin-Out's collar and the yellow twin's body locked up. Paralyzed but fully aware, he lay where he fell, watching as Lugnut rammed the end of the crackling staff down his screaming brother's throat.

Neither one of the twins ever threw up during training again.

- - - - -

_4: Never tolerate disobedience_.

After a day's "lessons" and sparring matches were concluded, all trainees (unless badly injured enough to require Hacksaw's services) would be hosed down -- to remove particles of dust and grit invariably picked up from the training-room floors, caked together with old and fresh oil, metal filings, melted plastic, and scrapes of paint. If the resulting grime got into their joints or worked its way into delicate wiring, it would inhibit their performance, and for this reason -- rather than comfort or aesthetics -- showers were mandatory.

Regardless of reason, these were the only part of training Spin-Out actually enjoyed.

He stood in front of the high-pressure blast, arms raised to allow complete access, turning to present every angle of his body for cleaning like a good little robot. It was arguably the only time Spin-Out could be considered well-behaved. An activity he would otherwise have seen as degrading was made fully bearable by the cascade of solvent -- a strong acid suspended in low-viscosity oil -- pouring over his frame and carrying away the filth that he was ever conscious of. He seemed almost in a trance, his head tipped back, optics shuttered against the spray, expression oddly tranquil, and the trainers knew he wouldn't be any trouble as long as the hose was turned on _him_.

But when it was time for him to leave the washrack so that the next mech could be cleaned... that was a different story.

The cleansing spray having done its work, a weak acid rinse cleared the remaining slippery oil from his armor. Then the hose went off and a trainer gestured for him to come out. Spin-Out lifted his lip in the beginning of a defiant snarl. The trainer rested a hand on the stun rod at his side, as a warning. Collars were removed in the showers, but the stun rods would have the same effect.

When Spin-Out made no move, the trainer came in to drag him out by force. At the same time, he motioned for the other Gamma to enter.

The next events happened fast. As the other took his place, Spin-Out broke away from the trainer with a territorial roar and launched himself at his rival like a yellow missile. The other Gamma -- as savage a product of Kaon's streets as the twins themselves -- retaliated in kind. The two fell to brawling until the trainer and a backup rushed in to separate them, batons throwing off sparks as they struck armor. The other Gamma was dragged out, but Spin-Out was shoved hard against the wall of the washroom. His trainer shackled him to the ceiling using manacles that were used to hold mechs that were too stubborn to behave themselves while they were hosed.

"You want another shower?" he gritted in Spin-Out's face. "That's what you'll get."

Before switching the hose on this time, he turned up the acid drip on full and cut off the oil altogether. A hot jet of undiluted solvent struck Spin-Out dead center in the chest, melting paint and blistering armor, eating into joints and the thin metal of his face. The other Gammas in line watched in horror and several jerked back as the yellow mech began to thrash and twist at his bonds, screaming too loudly for the roar of the spray to drown out.

The trainer guessed that this would make them ALL a little less reluctant to leave the washracks from now on.

- - - - -

_5: Use pain to get your points across._

_"I don't get it,"_ Sideswipe sent to his brother. The pair looked at the small curved daggers in their hands doubtfully. Spin-Out pressed his against a panel on his arm as hard as he could, then looked in vain for a mark. Finally he looked up at Bludgeon in disbelief.

"What kind of weapon is this?" he demanded. "How is it supposed to get through a mech's armor? It won't even scratch this scrapyard junk we've been stuck with."

His brother giggled before he could help it. He'd been doing that a lot lately, at the most inappropriate times. Bludgeon looked at him and smiled.

"Not every part of a mech is armored. As an example--" He struck out too swiftly for optics to follow, slashing Sideswipe right across the face before he had time to wipe the smirk off of it. The red twin fell back with a startled cry of pain. The yellow one moved almost as fast himself, leaping in and burying his own blade in the trainer's arm. It lodged in the elbow joint and actually went pretty deep before Bludgeon whipped his arm out, knocking the weapon into the far corner of the room. Disarmed and utterly undeterred, Spin-Out lunged for the trainer's neck with his bare fingers. They wrapped around the cables and dug in--

Bludgeon smiled again. He still held the knife, dripping with Sideswipe's energon, in his right hand. With a single swift thrust it slipped _under_ a plate of yellow armor and embedded itself into Spin-Out's shoulder. Wires cut, cables severed, the arm fell limp from his neck, rendered all but functionless. Spin-Out didn't scream. He fell back and gripped his shoulder and stared at the hilt protruding between his fingers in a kind of numb shock, but did not scream.

"There are always gaps in armor," Bludgeon continued as calmly as if nothing had happened. He flexed the fingers on his own damaged arm, and they responded sluggishly. "Find a weak point, and you can disable the largest mech with a mere pinprick. I trust you'll both remember that."

They certainly would.

- - - - -

_6: Finally, make sure he has nowhere to retreat to. Leave nothing sacred, and no place safe._

After hours, dark and quiet. Training was finished for one cycle. All the inmates (save for one or two recharging in Hacksaw's care) had been returned to their individual prisons. They did not fret or plot; like caged beasts, they merely slept, conserving their strength for the rigors of the following day. Exhaustion and hopelessness breed passivity in the most savage Sparks.

On the floor of one dim little cell, a pair of mechs recharged as a single heap of red and yellow armor. The red twin was uppermost, his head resting on the yellow one's chest and fingers latched onto the seams of his shoulder plates. Spin-Out's arms were clasped around his brother's waist, and one leg was hooked over both of Sideswipe's, locking them together. Spin-Out had a deep gash on his upper arm, and Sideswipe bore an ugly dent in one of his back panels, but their expressions were uncharacteristically peaceful. This was their one remaining haven, their time alone together, the only time they felt somewhat safe.

So safe, they didn't stir when the door opened and shadows fell over them. Their stillness was shattered when a foot came down hard on Sideswipe's injured back, bringing him awake with a startled cry. Spin-Out was alert on the instant, scrambling to get out from under his brother as a pair of hulking shapes fell upon them.

The attack was so unexpected that their training failed to kick in. Spin-Out fought back blindly, flailing his fists at everything and nothing, and was quickly overpowered. Sideswipe pressed himself into the wall, flinching and kicking out at his attackers until they dragged him back by the ankles. He was torn away from his brother and flung against a wall with such force that it cracked the damaged panel on his back.

Spin-Out was being pinned beneath a much heavier, unseen mech, who was grinding his face into the floor with apparent glee. Sideswipe heard his brother's muffled yells and staggered to his feet -- just as a familiar bulky shape loomed in front of him. This time, he recognized the figure.

Not that that made things _any_ better.

Clench grabbed him by the throat and pinned him up against the wall, almost lifting his feet clear of the floor. Sideswipe sputtered as he tried to make sense of this seemingly random assault.

"What-- _What_--" Finally his whirling thoughts resolved into a coherent sentence. "What did we _do_? _Why?_"

"You were caught unawares." Clench's voice was no less calm and unmoved than usual. "Never--" he slammed Sideswipe's head back against the wall-- "_Ever_, let your guard down. Danger will not go away while you're recharging. I could have killed you and your brother easily before either of you woke. If I find you in such a careless state again, I just might."

Letting that sink in, he dropped the twin to the floor with a clatter and gave him a kick for good measure before turning away. "Do I need to repeat myself?" he asked in Spin-Out's direction.

Bludgeon, who was straddling the yellow twin, smiled. "I think he got it." He'd dislocated one of Spin-Out's shoulders, and now he forced it back into its socket with a wrenching _pop_ that made the yellow mech go rigid beneath him. "This one's a quick study."

"Effective teachers make for apt pupils," Clench countered. He left the room without another glance at either twin, and his henchman followed, leaving the young mechs to collect their senses and slowly drag themselves back to the embrace they had been ripped from.

They lay still for the remainder of the night, seeking what solace they could despite having had the last shred of peace stripped from their lives, but they did not recharge. It was a testament to the "effectiveness" of Clench's methods that both brothers slept as lightly as cats from that day on.

_So it went for countless decacycles. Day in and day out, the lessons were drilled into us in vivid and lasting ways: Don't trust. Don't relax. Don't show weakness. Don't make eye contact. Don't hesitate. Don't ask. Don't talk. Don't _feel_. It was enough to make any mech insane. But that's exactly what it was supposed to do -- turn kids into killers, incapable of anything but fear and hate, so they would think nothing of tearing each other apart if they were given half a chance, just to dish out some pain of their own for a change. I don't think the Decepticon military could imagine a more efficient program for churning out ruthless fighting machines._

_And you know the worst part? There was no war here. We weren't soldiers, we weren't part of an army, we weren't even being used to protect anybody. Not that it would've made any of this, you know, _forgivable_, but at least then some good purpose would've come out of it. No, the reason my brother and I suffered all that time had nothing to do with any greater good. We didn't know it just yet, but we had been tortured, all this time, for the purpose of..._

_Entertainment._

_That's right. For a slagging _SPORT_._

_Primus, and people wonder why my brother hates the universe so much._

- - - - -

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

(1) Myomers: Artificial muscle fibers, little polymer strands that contract when an electrical current is run through them, simulating the movements of tendons and muscles. It's a far more advanced system of robotic movement than servomotors, so I've given it to Cybertronians.

Yes, I stole Lugnut from Animated. Bludgeon was originally a Pretender and a creepy occultist. Growl was a Micromaster. But I'm just using the names and some aspects of the personalities here. THIS IS NOT A CROSSOVER FIC.

No reviewer replies this chap, but if any of you have questions regarding the story, you can PM them to me. Or to the twins. They'll answer fanmail same as the Aerials, though as always, I can't guarantee cooperation (particularly from Sunstreaker).

Please give me your input on this! I slaved on this chapter for a week. It craves feedback!


	7. Angsting Under the Influence

Interlude: Angsting Under the Influence

(A/N: Brief flash-forward back to the present here, just to show what some Autobots are going through after the whole Ironhide incident. Contains angst and some snuggles, which are probably incongruous to the main tone of this story; but after the last chapter, I needed to write some hugs. I'm sure most of you won't complain.)

- - - - -

Prowl had a feeling he would find Sideswipe drinking. Though the lounge was hardly deserted, no one else was sitting near the red twin and he wasn't looking at anybody. He barely glanced up from his cube as Prowl approached.

"You're a fast reader."

Prowl stopped a few steps from him, door wings stiffening uncomfortably. "I... haven't finished it yet," he admitted. "Mind if I sit down?"

Sideswipe gestured to another seat with an inebriated flourish. "Help yourself. Drinks're on me. I think there's a bit left in one of these cubes somewhere." He waved a limp hand over the veritable pile of mostly-empty energon containers scattered over one half of the table. Prowl counted them mentally and couldn't quite hold back a wince.

"How long have you been drinking?"

Sideswipe appeared to give the question some thought, then shrugged. "What time is it? I was drunk when I started writing. Been trying to stay that way since--"

Without another word, Prowl reached out and took the remaining mostly-full cube from Sideswipe's hands, then cleared the empty ones off the table and took a seat next to him. He downed the cube -- relieved to find that, while heavy-grade, it wasn't nearly as strong as Sideswipe usually liked his special brews -- as quickly as possible, for once relieved at the slow burn that spread through his lightning-quick processor. It wasn't nearly enough to get him drunk, but at least the mental numbing properties kicked in fast. And it was better than letting Sideswipe poison himself.

The red twin watched him with a hint of a sardonic smirk. "Yeah, prob'ly a good idea. You're a good cop, Prowl. Always lookin' out for us."

"Sentimentality, from you? You've definitely been drinking too long." In contrast to the words, Prowl's voice was gentle. He put a hand on the younger mech's shoulder as Sideswipe swayed unsteadily. "Perhaps you should go to Ratchet--"

"What if," Sideswipe paused long enough to regain his balance, "what if I told you I was hoping I'd get an excuse to go see my brother?"

Prowl's mouth tightened in sympathy. "I wouldn't really blame you. You two seem to share a bond that... is beyond my comprehension. I didn't fully understand how much you needed each other until--" He stopped, not sure they should go into the subject now, or if Sideswipe was even in a state to.

The red twin shook his head. "S'okay. Mos' people don't really get it. Twins aren't common -- I've only met one other pair, an' they were nothin' like us. Think Sunny 'n me are pretty unique... We've had to be close, you know. We'd be dead. No way in the universe we're that lucky, and tougher mechs than us are dead." His slur was rapidly becoming less pronounced as he spoke. "People ask me why I stick with him -- like that's even a question. I _need_ him, Prowler. He's my everything. I know how that slagging sounds, but it's true, he's the strong one and if it wasn't for him I'D be messed up -- you take him away and I'll-- I'll--"

"Sideswipe, calm down." The mech was beginning to shake; Prowl's hand returned to his shoulder and stayed there. "We're not going to take your brother away. I won't let that happen. What I've read has already given me more than enough to understand Sunstreaker's actions, and I will advocate for him if needed. You're safe, both of you."

Sideswipe's optics met his and for a moment he was still. "You know," he said reflectively, "that is the first time anyone's ever told me that. 'Safe'. I would've laughed if it was anybody but you."

Prowl felt uncomfortable and wanted to look away, aware of the weight of the promise he'd just made and how much trust was riding on that promise. But he kept his gaze steady. "Remember who it was that took a chance on you. I brought you here. You haven't come all this way just to lose everything now. I'll make sure of that."

Without warning he found himself hugged by powerful red arms, while a grown warrior with a reputation for jumping Seekers shook and shivered with his head buried in Prowl's shoulder. Anyone who believed the black-and-white mech incapable of emotion would have been stunned to see Prowl's hands rest gently on Sideswipe's back, his head tilt forward so that his mouth brushed the armored helm. It was a sight for the ages, but luckily, of the few Autobots present to see, none was possessed of quite such tactless indiscretion as to break in on this rare contact. In fact, the scattered crowd around them seemed rather intently focused on their drinks.

"We never wanted this." The words were so soft, Prowl had to strain his audio receivers to catch them. "Never wanted to be like this. I want you to know that before you read the rest."

"Sideswipe, I would be a fool not to know that."

A violent wrench as the younger mech half pulled away, holding Prowl almost at arm's length. "You don't get it. You feel sorry for us. Wait till you see some of the things we've done..."

A chevron touched his forehead, one hand cupping his helm. "You didn't have any _choice_." Prowl's own voice was strained with emotion barely held in check. He remembered Jazz, groping through recovery, blinded and bitter at the world, clinging to him like Prowl was the last solid object left in the universe -- he couldn't turn his back when somebody needed him. He wasn't a counselor, let alone the therapist these kids needed, but if they wouldn't listen to anybody else...

"Oh, we had a choice," Sideswipe retorted. "We could've died. Neither of us had the courage, though."

"How can you blame yourself for that?" the tactician asked softly, catching the self-recriminating tone. "For wanting to live?"

The red mech looked disgusted. "We're _soldiers_, Prowl. We risk our lives all the time. We've faced down _Megatron_, but we couldn't face Clench? COME ON."

"Megatron never branded you, or woke you up screaming. You confronted terror before you'd ever held a gun or received a day of preparation. You weren't soldiers then, Sideswipe -- you were _CHILDREN_."

The last word was uttered much louder than Prowl intended, carrying above the level of private conversation. In the sudden silence that followed, he could literally hear the echo ringing off the nearest wall. Sideswipe looked as if he'd been shot. He opened his mouth, as if to reply -- but no words ensued. Instead a wave of unprocessed fuel rushed from his tanks, and he turned quickly away from Prowl as several cubes of excessively heavy energon was purged from his system.

When the violent spasms ceased, he remained huddled over the mess he'd made on the floor, only gradually becoming aware that there was a hand on his shoulder. "Knew I should've made my own," he muttered. "That slag never wants to stay down."

Looking at the rather impressive amount, Prowl was inwardly relieved that it was no longer inside Sideswipe. "Can you stand?"

"Ugh... Do I have to? I'm pretty comfortable..."

"Only if you want to see your brother. I'm sure Ratchet would like to have a look at your fuel filters, at the very least."

The medic's name provoked an exaggerated groan. "Maybe I should've written a will... He's never gonna let me leave the repair bay alive."

Nevertheless, at the prospect of visiting Sunstreaker, the red mech roused enough energy to crawl to his feet. Prowl assisted him considerably in the effort, and afterwards made no attempt to remove the red arm that was still draped around his shoulders; after all, Sideswipe was still off-balance. And if the twin warrior leaned into the tactician just a bit more than was necessary for physical support, well -- he _was_ suffering from more than just intoxication.

Besides, escorting him to the repair bay gave Prowl an excuse to put off his reading just a little longer. He had no doubt that the rest of Sideswipe's account would contain more unpleasant surprises.

- - - - -

**AUTHOR'S NOTES**

_This is not a Prowl/Sideswipe fic_. Just in case anyone gets ideas. I know you can't let two robots hug without half the fandom thinking they're an item sometimes.

I'm glad so many people are enjoying this, and thank you all for reviewing. Please keep it up, and be patient with updates, since I'm in school now and it takes up a lot of my computer time.

Also, I skipped reviewer replies last chapter, so I'm making up for it now. Enjoy.

**akisawana**: THERE. I got it done! With hugs, even! (I wanted more snuggling but Sideswipe decided to get sick on me, so I had to cut it short. I'll keep piling hugs on him every chance I get, though.)

**blood shifter**: What the twins would like to do to him isn't pretty, but the question is, will they ever get the chance?

**Robin Moto**: They're at an ideal age, actually. Gammas are mentally complete, unlike betas, but they're still very impressionable and so it's easy to train them. They won't be able to compete with more experienced mechs for some time, but they're certainly not too young to learn the basics of arena fighting.

**Sunstreaker**: Glad you liked it :) Sunny's vanity is inherent to his nature, but its extreme manifestation -- to the point of obsessiveness -- seems, like his other psychoses, to be the result of his screwed-up life. And yes, they kept giving Sideswipe the same thing, so eventually he did learn to keep it down.

**Anhai**: You're welcome, and I hope I haven't scarred you for life. Granted, I'm glad I can write anything that provokes such strong reactions from people. As for Clench and Hacksaw, I'm not planning a pretty end for either of them, but you may have to wait a while. Be patient -- we all know the twins won't let them get away with this.

**Katrover Swatroad**: Thank you. There IS sex in this story, or will be, but it's incidental and doesn't have any real bearing on the plot. I can write smut when I feel like it, but that isn't the main focus here. Besides, I can think of much more disturbing things that ought to be mature-rated than sex.

**Balrog Roike**: I don't doubt that Decepticon recruits go through something similar, but most of them are volunteers, at least in this. Of course, a lot of them come from similar nasty origins, or possibly even worse than anything the twins went through. Megatron tends to pick up his recruits from the darkest corners of society, presumably because they have survival skills he's looking for. (Also, they're easy to persuade because anything is better than what they've got.) He IS tied to the underground gladiator rings directly, though, and you'll see how later on -- assuming I ever get this thing finished.

**Carmilla DeWinter**: It is a very hard line to walk, and I am fortunate/unfortunate in having a number of friends and loved ones who have gone through some form of trauma or abuse, which gives me plenty of secondhand experience to draw off of. One of the keys lies in giving less description, rather than more -- leaving much of the scene to the reader's imagination. Of course, that does tend to provoke some very strong responses in readers, which is why I stuck a BIG FAT WARNING on this fic.

**Okami-chan**: A little of both, I think. It's all business for the most part, but you can't be in that sort of work without at least a touch of sadism, and most of the trainers do take at least some joy in dominating and terrifying these young mechs. Clench himself is a control freak, he gets satisfaction out of it, but he doesn't do it for personal reasons -- these kids are just tools that he's molding. (And no, that doesn't make him any less of a bastard.)

**Kitra13**: Basically, the idea is to strip away their self-respect and break their will, giving them hatred enough to fight but at the same time making sure they fear their trainers enough not to rebel. It's a tricky line of control to maintain, and there are many fighters who've rebelled anyway, some successfully. Clench, however, has never had a fighter turn on him and live. (Of course, he's never dealt with twins, either...)

**Clear Autumn**: A lot of Autobots don't live up the Autobot ideals. There are some messed-up people in their ranks, some of whom constantly skate on the line of acceptable behavior. The twins are arguably some of the most extreme, but still, it's not like they're the only junkyard dogs in the kennel. In any case, they're not monsters yet.

One thing to keep in mind with the twins is that above all, they are willful. They are very much themselves and will not bend or yield to ANYBODY if they don't feel like it. This inherent character trait has given them a resilience to even the harshest environments. Many people have this resilience. There are grown-up abused children walking around all over the nation and the world, and while they all bear the scars, they have survived. As Sunstreaker shows, some things might never be overcome... but emotional endurance and the power of free will should never be underestimated.


	8. Think We're Getting the Hang of This

8. Think We're Getting The Hang Of This

(Warnings for more violence, but less extreme than Chapter 6. Teeny bit of sappiness at the end.)

_I gotta say this for us: We learn fast. Least now we knew what we were in for and what was expected of us. It's funny how anything can become normal when you're exposed to it long enough. The tension, the strain, the violence, the most hellish things that were done to us... we just got used to it after a bit. I remember sitting up at night in our cell and comparing injuries, like it was some sort of contest. We'd actually brag about who had got dinged up the most in training. Sick game to play I guess, but we were sick kids, and it passed the time._

_We didn't cope exactly the same. Me, I didn't mind the fighting, and it got to where I didn't mind the beatings so much either, after a while. Pain never has fazed me much. If pain was all I'd get for mouthing off or doing something my way instead of theirs, I'd take it. Plus it really slagged them off to punch me and see me laughing. As long as I didn't annoy Clench enough to get killed, I could get away with a lot if I was prepared to take an aft-kicking for it. And I was. So I pushed them, talked back and just generally drove them nuts, whenever the tension started to get to me. And it made me feel almost good._

_But Sunny... Spin was different. It wasn't about fun for him, it was about pride. His pride was more important to him than anything, and he didn't have much of it left with Clench's brand on his face. Then his attitude was way different from mine. Spin was, well, a moody bastard. He couldn't just deal with our situation and make the best of it; he thought too much, and it got to him. He sulked, he rebelled, he blew up at the worst possible times and got ground into the floor again and again. Which only made him worse, of course. I swear Clench was trying to drive him insane... and it was working._

_Then came the last straw. I should've seen it coming, really, the way we'd been acting up. But it was still the worst shock of my life, and I do mean ever_...

- - - - -

Being rousted by the trainers was no break in their routine, and the twins were awake and on their feet before the door had finished opening. The first mech they saw was Clench, looking distinctly displeased.

"You," he said with usual brevity, pointing at Sideswipe, "come with me. And you, with Bludgeon."

Both twins felt uneasy, but they complied. It wasn't the first time they had trained separately. Very rarely, however, would Clench take one of them without the other. In fact they could not remember a single time. It didn't bode well.

Bludgeon stalked off with Spin-Out in tow, as Sideswipe fell in step behind Clench. Not too close, as he had learned, otherwise Clench would spin around and knock him backwards. Besides, it gave him a chance to look around without the trainer noticing. He was familiar with most of their new abode by now, and it wasn't long before he realized where they were headed. The arena.

His Spark sputtered alarmingly when he saw another young mech, dented and scuffed, waiting at the other end of the arena room. A ring of Clench's armed guards surrounded the central area, which was scored with weapon marks and stained with fluids of countless combatants. Sideswipe always felt a little ill setting foot onto that floor, and this time he was pretty sure he'd be here a while.

Clench indicated where he should stand, and Sideswipe took his place. He tried not to meet the optics of the other gamma standing across from him. He didn't want to see the other's expression, whether it was as worried and frightened as he felt, or eager and lusting for battle.

All 'bots in the room listened as Clench spoke. "In case you hadn't guessed, your trainers have deemed you fit for arena combat. Now is the time to prove them right. If your performance is pleasing, you will be granted full gladiator status and all the rewards that come with it. If not, your training will be intensified until you _do_ succeed, or until we tire of your failure." Clench swept his gaze back and forth between the two gammas as he spoke, but he lingered longest on Sideswipe. The red twin grinned cheekily to hide his nervousness.

"Select your weapons," he said and indicated a guard standing near each combatant. Sideswipe's offered him a choice between a stout pole weighted at both ends and a curved blade with a wicked hooked tip. He chose the pole with little hesitation, since it had more reach. _I'd rather beat the other guy into submission than cut him to pieces, anyway_.

Hard as he was trying not to think about the situation, his Spark was pulsing hotter and hotter and he could feel a tingle in his sensors that heralded a fight-or-flight reaction. Everything looked sharp, yet events were starting to blur together. His hands shook slightly where they gripped the staff. He looked across at the other gamma and didn't seem to register him as a person anymore -- just something that needed to be taken down. The axe in the other's hands gleamed dully. Sideswipe heard Clench say something, but the words didn't make sense.

Then a plasma flail crackled across his shoulders, and the sound and sharp stinging sensation that accompanied it jolted him into action. He lunged forward; his opponent was already doing the same. Events continued to blur, stretching faster and faster, the staff in his hands swinging in a wide arc that met the other's axe with a jarring _crack_, and Sideswipe's feet leaving the ground as he aimed a kick at his opponent's head...

The next few minutes went by quickly. Sideswipe fought on instinct, taking some lessons from his training but mostly improvising as he went, blocking and dodging and kicking and swinging when it felt right. It was surprisingly easy, and he hardly had to think about it at all. He took some hits, but they didn't register except on the outer reaches of his mind, and he kept fighting as if the axe hadn't bitten him at all. He forgot why he was fighting. He forgot who. He just threw himself into it with reckless abandon, surprised and delighted to find he was winning, that the other kid just couldn't keep up, that the axe was now lying over in a corner and he had a perfect swing at his opponent's unprotected head...

With a gleeful whoop he knocked the other mech sprawling, then leaped to stand on top of him, ready to keep him from rising. There was no need. The other gamma groaned slightly and didn't move, and Sideswipe could tell he'd damaged the external sensors on the kid's helm. Enough to knock him out of his senses for quite some time.

"OH YEAH!" he hollered and flung the staff away, almost hitting one of the guards in the head. He was exulted. It was so _easy_! This was all they had to do? He sauntered up to Clench, grinning audio to audio.

"Got any more you want to throw at me? I'm all warmed up now!"

Clench didn't seem to show much reaction at first. Then he nodded, as if Sideswipe had done nothing more impressive than was expected of him. "That will do." He gestured toward the gamma lying on the floor. "Get him to repairs," he told the guards, "then back to his cell. Keep him in there for three or four cycles. Maybe it'll motivate him to try harder next time."

Sideswipe's buoyant mood deflated and crashed, hard. He turned to look as the other kid was hauled away callously by one of the brutes, still groaning slightly. Sideswipe couldn't remember how many times he'd hit him. _He's going to be punished because I won_. Just like that, the sick feeling from before returned tenfold.

He tore his optics away from the other gamma, but they settled on a fresh pool of energon on the arena floor and wouldn't budge. It took him a moment to realize the energon was his own. Sticky footprints led away from it, to a trail that went up his leg... for the first time he noticed a deep gash in his upper leg, left by the axe blade. It had actually taken a pretty good chunk out of him. He ought to be feeling it, and supposed he probably was, somewhere, but the pain refused to reach his central processor. All he could think was that he deserved worse.

Distantly he was aware of Clench taking his arm. "I suppose you'll want your rewards now. Come on, then. Get Hacksaw to stop that leak."

He didn't sound too concerned, but it was still the most he'd cared about one of the twins' injuries before. Sideswipe figured it was because he'd just gone up in the bastard's estimation. That did not make him feel any less sick.

- - - - -

_Clench wasn't kidding about rewards. Instead of taking me back to our dim, grungy cell, he showed me to a completely new room in one of the upper levels, where I'd never been before. An actual room, with actual beds, and an energon dispenser, and waste disposal for real, instead of just a pan on the floor. Aside from the lock on the door, it almost could've been cozy. A week ago I would've killed to sleep in a place like this for once. Now... now I felt more like I belonged in that filthy hole we'd had before._

_I can't tell you how sick I felt. I mean, I felt worse for winning than anything they could have done to me for losing. I wasn't sure I could speak to Spin when I saw him next._

_Then it occurred to me to wonder where Spin was. Clench hadn't left yet, so I asked him._

_Lucky for him he was on the other side of the locked door when he told me._

_See, the worst shock of my day wasn't the fight. The worst was after I'd gotten to my new room and found out my brother wouldn't be joining me. At least, not until he made it to gladiator status himself. Apparently Clench and the trainers still didn't think Spin was ready for the arena. Until he could prove himself, they were keeping him in training... and I wasn't going to see him._

_I'd started to think I could handle anything, short of death, that these guys could dish out at me. I was wrong. This was... something I hadn't even considered. It was so, well, out of the question, so fundamentally_ wrong_... Like he'd just casually reached into my chest and torn my Spark in half and put the other half in a box and locked it away. That's the only comparison I can think of._

_I can't remember what I said. What I did. I know I tore up the new room pretty good, and broke the energon dispenser, which was fine, because I never wanted to eat again. I refused to go near the bed. I'd never slept without Spin before, ever. I guess I cried, and probably called Clench all sorts of things, and begged and made a general scene. But ask me the specifics and I couldn't tell you. All I remember was how I felt. For the first time in my life, I actually wanted to die._

_Our first separation lasted five cycles. It was literally the worst thing they'd ever done to us. I could still feel Spin through our connection, but without his physical presence, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what they were doing to him. Worse, I didn't know if I would ever see him again_.

- - - - -

It was completely dark in the Pit. Spin-Out didn't mind. He didn't want to look around and not see his brother next to him. He didn't want to look at the gouges and scrapes that marred his dull finish. He didn't want to see the scratches he'd left on the walls of the tiny cell, or the scores of older ones left by fingers other than his. He stared and stared into the dark without seeing anything, and was glad.

Four cycles he'd been in here now. He only knew because a trainer -- usually Bludgeon -- came in twice a day. He barely felt the beatings anymore. They'd been bad at first, because he refused to train and so was beaten until he couldn't stand. He could obey and make it stop, but he didn't. After a bit they ceased bothering him, and now he wouldn't even take the trouble of standing when the trainers walked in. He sat and let them rain blows against his hunched back, and he didn't care.

Four cycles. He hadn't slept, or eaten; they'd stopped offering him energon. His awareness was starting to fog, though his internal thoughts remained sharp and clear. He could barely feel the throbbing in his back, but he could replay his last ten conversations with Sideswipe in his head without a hitch. He played them over and over, occasionally murmuring to himself (it was too damn quiet) or quietly etching an invisible shape into the floor with his torn fingers. If it had been visible, it might have resembled his twin's face.

The door opened for the tenth time. Spin-Out shuttered his optics against the light. Lugnut this time, and he'd brought his favorite shockstick, the one almost as long as Spin-Out was tall. Lugnut swung hard, but he didn't have Bludgeon's cruel cunning in striking at the most effective spots. Spin-Out didn't even twitch when he barked, "Get up!"

A foot prodded him, and then the tip of the staff jabbed him in the back of the head. Now _that_ was going a little too far. Spin-Out growled, barely audible. Lugnut repeated, "Get _up_!"

"No, thanks. If I'm gonna get the slag knocked out of me, I'd rather sit down for it." Spin-Out studied the worn plating on his fingertips idly. How long had he been scratching at the floor..?

The staff cracked across his back. The force alone was almost enough to double him over, but the electrical discharge that accompanied it shot signals all through his dermal sensornet and left raw nerves burning in the wake of the blow. The burn had hardly begun to fade when the rod fell again, and again. Lugnut wasn't even trying to administer a clever beating. _Stupid brute_. Spin-Out shoved the pain to one side and ignored it. He debated pretending to fall asleep, but decided he wanted this over with, rather than prolonged, as it no doubt would be if Lugnut got good and mad.

_"You know what your problem is?"_ Clench's voice, irritatingly, surfaced in his head as Lugnut hammered on him. _"You don't want to fight. You don't get into it the way your brother does, the way a lot of mechs do. You have to be forced into it, and then you get angry. Once you get angry you lose your head, and then you get your aft handed to you."_

Slag him with a rusty saw, anyway. But he was right. Spin had lost to Clench every time, because he blew up. He didn't think, he just acted. He wasn't the fighter his brother was. He couldn't jump in headfirst and have any hope of emerging on top. He didn't know how Sideswipe did it.

_Sideswipe. Damn it, you slagger, you left me in here_.

He didn't want to think about that. He concentrated on the beating instead. It was beginning to bug him, but Lugnut was really predictable, almost an automaton. Same pause between strokes, every time. It made for a strangely maddening rhythm. After each blow, the staff would pause for a second against his back, then lift, and Lugnut would shift his considerable weight with an audible _creak_ of metal and a slight _clunk_ as his right heel returned to the ground; then the staff _whooshed_ through the air...

CLANG.

Creak, clunk, _whoosh_, CLANG.

Creak, clunk, _whoosh_, CLANG.

Creak, clunk, _whoosh_...

Suddenly he saw it. Suddenly he could see Lugnut perfectly, without even looking at him, tracking everything that made each sound in the sequence. He could predict to the millisecond when the next strike would hit. He heard the staff begin to sweep through the air...

He spun around and caught it, blocking with his left arm and grabbing the staff with his right. The panel on his forearm buckled as the momentum of the blow was arrested, and electricity crackled painfully through both shoulders, but he could hardly have cared. He used the staff to pull himself up as Lugnut, surprised, took a step back. Spin-Out's foot shot up and into the trainer's chest, and he lost his grip on the staff before his dim processor had time to catch up to what was happening.

The yellow twin crouched, shifting the staff to a fighting stance. Energon deprivation, sleeplessness, and his battered state were all forgotten. Everything seemed to have been swept aside except for this perfect, crystalline movement. His thoughts were like laser fire, but he had never felt so calm. It would be so effortless to move, to bring the staff up and into Lugnut's single blazing optic, to keep shoving until it protruded from the back of his helm and then pry the trainer's head right off, so he could get to the severed neck-wires beneath...

It took a moment for the guards to respond to the sudden commotion. When they opened the door, they had to leap back as Lugnut's head came flying out. One quick look inside the room -- at Spin-Out coated in energon and holding a handful of dripping loose wires, his optics like chips of cometary ice -- and the guards called for Clench.

- - - - -

"I'm pleased with these two," Clench told Hacksaw as the medic was finishing minor repairs on Spin-Out. "More than I could've bargained for. I was having my doubts about this one, but I don't think Lugnut left much room for doubt." He nodded at the dripping heap of metal on a nearby table.

"I'd say not." Hacksaw sounded considerably less than pleased. "That heap of bolts is going to take some putting back together. Never seen him such a mess. If he'd lost much more fuel, he'd be nothing but a pile of spare parts to me now. When do you need him functioning again?"

"Don't rush yourself. I have better trainers. Just make sure this one is up and ready as soon as possible," he said with a clap on Spin-Out's shoulder. "I see the makings of a real Pit-fighter here. Want to see what he can do."

The mech beneath all of this prodding and discussion sat silently, gazing at nothing, ignoring Clench and Hacksaw as if they were figments of his imagination. The ice had melted from Spin-Out's optics and they were dim with exhaustion. He didn't stir or make the least sign of life beyond the movements of an automaton, until Clench finally tugged on his arm and said, "You're finished here. I think it's time you were put back with your brother."

Spin-Out shook himself as if roused from a dream. He followed Clench with a feverish expression, like an addict being promised a fix. When they got to the door of the new room Spin-Out leaned himself against it before Clench had gotten it open, pressing as if he could feel his brother just on the other side. Then the door slid aside and they fell into each other's arms.

For an hour or more there were no words. They lay in a heap together as if they could not move, their half-Sparks fluttering wildly before settling into a single, reassuring rhythm. Even their shivering seemed to be in unison. Eventually Sideswipe managed to pull himself into a sitting position, dragging his brother with him, unwilling to let go for even a second. He reached around and felt the dents and gouges that riddled Spin-Out's back. He tried to ask a question, but Spin-Out shook his head, biting at his brother's mouth to keep it still.

_What the Pit happened to you?_ Sideswipe demanded over their tightlink. Stubborn fragger.

_Don't wanna get into it_. Damn, he was tired. He just wanted to hold onto his twin and sleep. Think about this slag later.

Sideswipe hesitated, then -- "I fought, Spin. My first match."

"You win?"

"_Yeah_, but that's not the point. I almost took the poor bastard apart--"

"So you won. Shut up already." Spin-Out rested his head on Sideswipe's chest and closed his optics. Sideswipe made a frustrated noise.

"Well, what about you? What's your excuse for being covered in energon?"

"Lugnut was annoying, so I took his head off."

A brief pause. "You're serious, aren't you?"

Spin-Out shrugged. There was a longer pause, and then he felt his twin start to shake. He was vaguely alarmed until he realized Sideswipe was giggling. Pretty soon he couldn't contain it and busted out laughing at the top of his vocalizer, until Spin-Out involuntarily joined in. They leaned against each other and laughed until their heads hurt. It wasn't really _that_ funny, but after half a decacycle apart they had to vent somehow, either laugh or cry, and laughing felt better.

"Sigma, I'm tired," said Spin-Out at length, when they were both more or less finished being jackasses. "Is that a real berth?"

"Looks like. Haven't used it yet. There's a shower too, and actual sanitation, and an energon dispenser that makes regular energon, instead of that overcharged stuff we've been --"

Spin opened his optics. "Did you say shower?"

- - - - -

_That's when I knew it was gonna be alright_.

0-0-0-0-0

**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Thank you all for your reviews. Most of you seem to be enjoying everything I throw at you, but please, let me know if something doesn't make sense or seemed out of character. I'm always looking to improve.

One reviewer made an odd request. She asked that I post a warning at the top of any chapter with "robo-sex", which is fine, because I'd do that anyway (content warnings at the beginning of each chapter are standard for me, in case you hadn't noticed). But she also asked that I summarize the important plot points of any such chapters in the next one, for people who don't want to read them.

Sorry, but I'm not going to that much trouble because someone wants to skip an entire chapter to avoid a tasteful mention of interfacing. If there is any sex in this story, it will not be graphic or explicit. I am not putting porn in this. If you survived the violence in chapter six, a casual mention of physical intimacy should not be enough to leave mental scars. If you're still worried, you're welcome to stop reading before the twins decide to kiss in front of you.

Moving on...

**Silveriss**: Prowl is probably more capable of compassion than most of us are, under the calm exterior. He is concerned with logic first, and logic dictates that one catches more flies with honey than with vinegar. Therefore, kindness is the best way to reach out to a mech that has been hardened and twisted by cruelty. It's all business -- or at least that's his excuse. Of course, he doesn't usually go to the lengths for others that he has for the twins, so there's a lot more complexity to the issue than that. But you know Prowl -- has to put up that professional front.

**Okami-chan**: I can't see them as a couple in that sense. Prowl is more of a father figure to the twins, which is good, because their role models up until now haven't been worth an ounce of spit.

**Anhai**: I wouldn't think you were very nice if you DIDN'T wish harm to people like Clench. It shows you have an innate sense of justice. And believe me, the guy has got karma coming to him _bad_. Thanks for the patience.

**Balrog**: Just wait and see. This is an original storyline, so Meggy's uprising won't be quite like anything you've read before, though it was inspired by several canon versions.

**tomorrow4eva**: I agree with that. I've nothing against sexual attraction, but I don't think it's necessary for friendly contact. Nothing wrong with friends embracing, or a concerned officer reassuring a messed-up kid. Especially in the case of Sideswipe -- he needs all the hugs he can get.

**Lnzy1**: I've never read 'The Color Purple'. I'll have to check it out. I seem to have an addiction for stories that leave me physically ill.

- Next chapter should be up before long. Thanks for all your patience, and keep questions and comments coming.


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